A white-robed figure,
And the rustling of leaves.
A howling wind,
And a tale of the happenings on elm street.
A shudder that spikes
The goosebumps on my arms.
A distant howl
That is utterly bizarre.
The chill of the cold
Gives me frostbite.
The growling from the woods
Makes me want to hide.
A glass of horror,
Is this my last stand?
Unbelievably enough,
A dare is how all of this began.
The shadows stir,
The darkness descends.
My life flashes
Before my end.
Will I see my killer?
Or will he remain
Hooded and shadowed
With an amorphous face?
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MUSINGS
Poesiathese words are designed to be interpreted correctly; exoteric m u s i n g s © Aneet, 2015
